‘And the irony of it is that Niall was always telling me she wasn’t a real friend,’ Hilary said bitterly, picking up her bag. ‘Well very soon she’s going to rue the day she did the dirty on me. I’m going to deal with her first,’ Hilary said grimly, wiping her eyes.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Jonathan offered.
‘Ah thanks, but you need to get going to Rosslara—’
‘I need to be with a friend who needs me,’ interjected Jonathan. ‘An extra hour won’t make too much of a difference.’
‘No. I’ll deal with this myself. I should have cut her out of my life years ago and then all this wouldn’t have happened.’
‘Let me know how things go, won’t you?’ he urged.
‘Of course. I’ll probably be bawling on the phone to you.’
‘Bawl away, and if you want me to come back tonight to be with you, I will.’
‘You’re a great pal, Jonathan,’ she said brokenly, tears overflowing again. He held her tight, patted her back and stroked her hair until she was calm again.
‘Now I wouldn’t be much of a pal if I let you out looking like a panda bear on crack!’ he said firmly, rooting in her bag for her hairbrush, lipstick, dusting powder and brush. ‘Sit still while I minister to you,’ he ordered, rinsing a tissue under the tap to wipe her tears and mascara-run, before deftly sweeping the powder brush over her cheekbones and forehead, then tracing lipstick over her mouth. He brushed her hair, feathering her fringe, and stood back to look at her. ‘That’s better. Now if you feel you need reinforcements ring me and I’ll be up the road after you, quicker than a crooked politician palming a brown envelope.’
In spite of herself, Hilary laughed. ‘You’re incorrigible, Harpur.’
‘And you’re amazing, Hammond. Go and do what you have to do and ring me immediately!’
‘I will,’ she said heavily. ‘I love ya! Bye!’
Heavy-hearted, Jonathan watched her reverse out of the drive. Hilary deserved so much better, he thought angrily closing the door. What a horrible start to the new year for his best friend.
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-T
HREE
‘Just concentrate on your driving,’ Hilary muttered, having swerved very close to the edge of the narrow coastal road. She could not absorb what she’d heard on the phone. Couldn’t take in what had actually happened. It was like a dream but, as she slowed down to let a dog walker cross the road and heard the rhythmic whoosh of the sea against the shore, she knew it was no dream.
Would Colette be back at her parents’ house yet? It was on Hilary’s route home anyway; she would wait until her erstwhile friend arrived if she wasn’t there. Colette had been driving Jacqueline’s Merc for the few days she’d been in Ireland, and she’d arrived at the party in it.
The navy Merc was gleaming in the mid-morning sun when Hilary roared up the drive. Frank’s silver Merc was parked in front of it. Hilary didn’t care who was there. Colette O’Mahony had pushed her too far this time. She wasn’t getting away with it.
She rang the doorbell, tempted to keep her finger on it, but she didn’t want to alert Colette to anything untoward.
‘Ah Hilary. Happy New Year! I didn’t know you were with Colette. She’s just gone down to make herself a coffee in the kitchen,’ Frank greeted her kindly, opening the door wide.
‘Thanks, Happy New Year to you too,’ she said, returning the greeting before marching past him along the marble-tiled hall and down to the kitchen. Colette had her back to her as she stared out of the kitchen window.
‘Niall warned me about you all along and I wouldn’t listen to him,’ Hilary said tightly, keeping a lid on her temper with difficulty.
Colette spun round. ‘Whatever he said, he’s telling lies. He wanted to seduce me! He made the first move.’
‘What is your problem, Colette?’ Hilary roared. ‘Why are you so horribly mean-spirited and jealous that you could even consider making a move on my husband? You made the first move! Don’t lie.’ She glared at the other woman and walked up to her and thrust her face close to hers. ‘I dropped everything, and I mean everything, in that week coming up to Christmas to fly to New York and be with you in your hour of need. I’ve always been there for you, even when you do your hot potato act, and this is the way you repay me. You’re no friend, Colette, you never have been. It’s all about you! You! You! You! And it always has been. Ever since we were little girls. Why, Colette? Why?’
‘Why, Colette? Why?’ mimicked Colette. ‘Why don’t you just shut up and stop whinging? You’re so smug, Hilary. You call yourself a friend. How do you think I felt knowing that you only played with me out of pity, because your mother made you?’ Colette snarled.
‘What?’ exclaimed Hilary, gobsmacked.
‘Don’t you remember? Begging your mother not to ask me to your birthday party?’
‘I don’t remember that,’ retorted Hilary, mystified. What had childhood birthday parties got to do with how Colette had behaved today?
‘Of course you don’t remember. Why should you? You weren’t the one standing behind the door listening to your mother telling you that you had to invite ”poor” Colette. How would you have felt if it were you? You with your happy clichéd Walton family,’ she sneered. ‘The mother who was always at home with the dinner cooked, ready to help with homework, ready to bake cakes with you. And then you married your oh so perfect husband – you never had your heart broken like I did when I was young. No, because your life is oh so perfect! And then you had your oh so perfect daughters who never put
